


Wave after Wave

by wigglebox



Series: Post-Season 15 Supernatural Fics / pre-finale [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beach House, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox/pseuds/wigglebox
Summary: Don't ruin the sofa.





	Wave after Wave

They finally scored a beach vacation. Sort of. 

A beach house at the end of Charlestown Beach Road had a rocky reputation. Every so often, a tourist would go missing, only to be found a few weeks later bloated and rotted in the ocean. 

The house, which had been eventually abandoned, was bought by a real estate man several years later. He saw a ghost one day, freaked out, and went to a tabloid. 

Dean and Cas were in Jersey already on a separate case when they saw the paper. 

For the past several months, they had been on non-stop casework, with hardly any time to sleep.

Some things that were let loose when God lost his marbles didn’t get put back where they belonged. Sam and Eileen worked west of the Mississippi and Cas and Dean took the east. 

It was particularly exhausting for Cas who had no Angel grace to prop him up following constant fighting. Eight months in and he was still adjusting. 

And he and Dean were both adjusting to each other. 

The barriers that held them back from each other over the years shattered when God broke the world. But, they had only been able to take small steps towards each other. It was slow. They had time now but it was still so _slow_. There was still a mess to clean up and they hardly had any time. 

The tension was building up in Dean and he knew he was going to burst soon. 

What didn’t help was that by the end of every day, they were too tired, and too scared, to explore each other fully outside some quick jerk off sessions. 

But, when Dean spotted the tabloid while getting is coffee at a gas station in Woodbridge, an idea struck him. Cas pushed back on the idea of wanting to go take care of something as silly as a ghost, until Dean told him the plan. 

A day later, they arrived in Charlestown, spring just beginning to touch the wintered, multi-million dollar houses. A few people stood around the beach homes, pulling plywood off the windows or repainting the wooden exteriors that were beaten with New England winter storms. 

Dean and Cas tracked the owner down at a diner, and told him the what’s what of the supernatural world, and were given the keys to the place without question. Whatever the guy saw was definitely too much for him to process.

“Ready for a little vacation?” Dean asked, tossing the keys to Cas as they got in the car. They told the owner the job would take about a week, ‘based on prior experiences’, but in reality, they’d probably be able to finish it by the end of the day. 

But they wanted a week. 

Cas caught the keys and slid into the front seat of the car without a word. 

 

The house was at the very end of Charlestown Beach Road. The road wasn’t even paved that far down. The house stood alone in a small field of beach grass and sand, risen up on stilts to protect it from the tide that threatened the coast during storms. 

It was moderate sized, recently painted. The owner said he was bringing in some small furniture on his own when he saw the ghost, standing outside the sliding glass door that lead to the deck. She had long hair hanging limp around her face with seaweed laced through. The man said her face was twisted and bloated, like she had been floating in a tank of water for years. 

It was clear someone had killed the woman and hid her somewhere near the water. She was selective with the people who disappeared, according to local town reports of missing tourists, but it was always men. 

The impala rolled up and parked in the packed-dirt driveway, Dean letting the engine idle while he took in the sight of the house. Cas was silent the entire time it took for them to drive over, just staring at the keys, playing with them absentmindedly in his lap. 

Dean glanced over, “You good? I really don’t want this job to actually take us a week.” 

Cas pulled himself out of whatever thought cloud he was in and nodded wordlessly, shoving the keys in his pocket and exiting the car. 

They didn’t head into the house, a silent acknowledgement from both of them that if they went in, they’d get distracted fast and ignore the case all together. 

Cas carried two shovels while Dean took the can of gas as they prowled around the property, grateful they were so far down from prying eyes. 

In the end, it took them only 45 minutes to find the grave. 

Hidden between two dunes, and covered in tall beach grass, Cas found two stones, one of them stamped with almost a complete circle. It was a strange enough occurrence, and decided to tap the ground with the tip of the shovel. He didn’t feel anything, but knew this had to be where she was, probably covered with years of sand built up. 

Dean joined him, and helped him dig down. No words passed between them, and Dean had a nervous bubble building, trying to wrack his brains if he did anything in the past several days to warrant the silent treatment. 

But, what Dean settled on was the thought that Cas may not be ready to spend a whole week with Dean uninterrupted. 

They hadn’t done much together. The desire was there, but they just hadn’t yet. Even the simple concept taking all their clothes off hadn’t happened, only pulling the hem of a shirt up to get a peek of skin or opening the fly of their pants for a quick release. 

Dean’s nerves were also starting to build. 

Cas and Dean eventually hit a piece of rotted wood about four feet down. A shallow grave. It was shocking she wasn’t unearthed by the ocean and carried out to sea. 

Salt, gas, match: The smoke billowed up into the blue sky, carried away by the ocean breeze. It only then occurred to Dean then that even though they were far down the road, the smoke could probably be seen for at least a mile.

Thankfully, no fire trucks ever came. 

Cas stood by the grave, not even looking at the flames. Instead, he had his head turned back to the house, hand in his pocket, toying with the keys. The small balloon of worry started to expand in Dean’s stomach. He walked over and stood between Cas and the house, forcing the man to make eye contact, holding his shoulders. 

“Be honest, do you not want to stay here?” Dean asked, “I know we’ve been so busy, and still working things out. You know I’ll never make you do what you’re not comfortable with, right?”

Cas finally focused on Dean, heaving a heavy sigh.

 _This is it_ Dean thought, _we’re going to go back and bounce around motels just jerking each other off --_

He braced himself. 

Cas took the keys out of his pocket and shook his head. 

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I didn’t want to stay here but I do. I’ve just been trying to think of what we can do with the time.”

Dean sucked in his breath. Cas’s voice was tense, tone laced with a hunger that was new to Dean’s ears. 

Licking his lips, Dean distracted himself and looked over to the smoke. The fire was almost out. 

“You just were so quiet, I thought you were having second thoughts --”

“I was quiet because I didn’t want the guy to know what exactly I intend to do in his house. I was avoiding touching you because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to do the job,” Cas stepped forward into Dean’s space, “And, I couldn’t look at you because if I did, I’d lose control, which I’m pretty close to doing now.”

Dean couldn’t move. All of the worry and anxiety melted out of him with every inch Cas got closer. 

When they had the energy to do something, Cas always knew how to say the exact right things to get Dean going. Dean wondered if he learned some of the dirty talk from porn, but in the time they were traveling together, Dean never saw Cas on the computer unless they had a show playing in the background. 

Cas just seemed to have a knack for power and control. Imagine that. 

“What -- uh,” Dean cleared his throat, “What exactly were you intending to do with me in there?” 

Instead of answering, Cas strolled past Dean, keys dangling in his hand. Dean blinked a few times, coming back down to earth before kicking sand on the fire and following Cas to the house, lured by the unspoken promise.

They were finally given the freedom and energy to do whatever they wanted. 

 

Dean barely shut the door behind him before Cas shoved him against it, mouth moving hungry and aggressive over any inch of skin that was exposed. It wasn’t new, the desperation, but the carnal energy that was radiating between them was. They had been putting contact and their urges off for so long. A quick, mutual but restrained jerk off here and there wasn’t cutting it, and they both finally reached their breaking point. They were past the point of “adjustment”. 

Something snapped in them. 

Dean had been down this road before with many people throughout the decades but he never felt as frenzied as he did now. Cas’s hands were already snaking their way up, under Dean’s shirt and pressing into his skin. 

Dean himself could feel all the pent-up yearning that had been building start to radiate across his body. In almost no time flat, he was already hard. Cas was also in the same boat. 

Their hips ground together, providing little relief through the thick denim. The pressure was nice, but it wasn’t anything new. They had been here already. Dean wanted new territory. He broke away from Cas’s mouth, panting slightly, trying to get oxygen back to his brain. 

“I asked you what you planned on doing with me in here,” Dean teased. The sight before him was beautiful as Cas’s eyes grew so dark, Dean could hardly see the blue anymore. Cas’s cheeks were a deeper shade of pink, and his mouth swollen. 

Clearly Cas had a plan for Dean. 

“Get on the sofa,” he demanded, his face less than an inch away from Dean’s. The order only threw more fuel on the fire for Dean. 

Stumbling to the sectional over to his right, he took a brief look around the room. It was an open space plan with the front door placed between a small kitchen and the cozy living pace. The TV sat still in its plastic. The sofa smelled like a mix of untouched synthetic fibers.

“I think we’re about to break everything in for the old man,” Dean remarked, mostly to himself as he noticed the area rug still curled at the edge. When he got no response from Cas, he turned and saw the man just standing by the kitchen island, leaning against it. 

“Not gonna join me?”

Cas played with the button on his shirt closest to his throat. Dean shivered, feeling the power dynamic between them officially switch over. There were instances here and there where Cas would take more control over their small interactions, but never like this. The new found freedom of a house and time unleashed something in Cas that Dean embaressingly too eager to experience. 

“Take off your clothes,” Cas ordered, still playing with the button on his shirt. Dean felt feverish as he automatically started to undo his shirt, starting where Cas was with himself. 

Dean wanted to poke the bull some more, just to see how far he could take Cas. Dean didn’t even know how far he, himself, wanted to go. This was completely uncharted territory. Most women he was with weren’t authoritative like this, because he didn’t often seek that type out. The few men he had crossed paths with clearly realized they were the ones with the power, but it never _ever_ felt like how Dean felt as he slid his flannel over his shoulders, and tossed it over the back of the seat. They were strangers. 

To keep the tension thick, Dean never lost eye contact with Cas. He sat sideways on the stiff cushions and worked slow to get his undershirt off. Cas could only see the top half of Dean thanks to the higher back of the seat, and Dean used that to his advantage. 

He’s done playful strip teases before but not on the edge like this. It was mostly when he was drunk and stupid. But now, he was sober, hot, and determined to push Cas as far as Cas would let him. 

He started to lift his undershirt up, eyes still locked with Cas’s. The hem got just high enough to show Cas a peak of skin over the seat before he dropped it. Dean thought he heard a soft, frustrated exhale as he turned and sat with his back facing Cas. He slipped off the shirt then, tossing it onto the floor behind him. Dean could practically feel Cas’s gaze digging into the back of his neck. 

In a breath, Dean slid down against the fabric, legs parting as he unzipped himself. In his haze, Dean only just noticed the muffled sound of crashing waves outside, seagulls nearby. The house was stuffy, smelly with the smell of new, unused things. It was a buzzkill when he didn’t have Cas to distract himself with. 

Standing, Dean stretched his arms, making sure every muscle he could move, moved. He kept his back to Cas. The envelope was very much being pushed.

Dean slipped the latches on the casement window and pushed one side open, then the other, allowing the cool, spring ocean air to rush in. It was salty and fresh, causing his skin to break out in goosebumps when the breeze him him. High tide was coming in. The smoke from the burn pit was almost completely gone now. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the air for a few moments, calming himself down. He didn’t want it to be over before it started. 

Cas had other plans. 

Hands gripped Dean by the waist and spun him around before Dean had a moment to process. He didn’t hear Cas come up behind him. The man was still fully clothed. Dean was starting to crave skin to skin contact. 

The hands moved in a flash from Dean’s waist to tug on the top of his pants. 

“I want these off.”

Cas was almost there, almost in full power, but he didn’t use the right tone. Dean grinned and shrugged. 

“You didn’t say please.”

Instead of responding, Cas took a hand and cupped the back of Dean’s head, and pulled him into another scorching kiss. Cas’s other hand began to tug on the denim, causing them to slide further and further down. Before they completely trapped Dean’s legs, Cas stepped backwards, keeping Dean captured by his mouth, leading them back to the sofa. 

Dean was only half-aware of his own hands trying to stay busy, fumbling with the hem of Cas’s shirt. Cas pulled away and removed Dean’s hands from their destined path up underneath the fabric. 

This time, Dean actually groaned with frustration. 

“This isn’t fair, come on.” 

“Do what I say and you’ll probably get what you want faster,” Cas said, pushing Dean back down on the sofa. Automatically, almost as if someone else was moving his limbs for him, Dean shucked the jeans off, leaving him only in his underwear. 

“Your turn. Come on.”

Cas hesitated before finally starting to remove the layers himself, faster than Dean had gone. In the few times they managed to be together on a more intimate level, Dean was only ever given a glimpse at what laid underneath the fabric. They were always in such a hurry. 

Cas fumbled with the button on his pants, and without a word Dean moved up to help. Pants and boxers gone, it was like Dean unlocked a treasure map. 

Without being told to, Dean scrambled back to the L of the sectional, grabbing one of the pillows to shove behind his shoulders. Cas watched him, hunger plastered over his face as Dean peeled away the final barrier between him and what they had wanted for -- 

Well, years really. 

For a moment, Dean and Cas just stared at each other, taking in the sights for the first time. There was no more secrets under layers of clothing, no quick peeks or fumbling in the dark -- They were out there now, raw, and unashamed.

The feral look on Cas that had been there since the beach faded as he crawled up on the couch, meeting Dean in between slightly parted legs. 

Once, maybe three months prior, Dean and Cas were able to hold themselves together while staying the night in the Impala, unable to find a motel in the middle of a rural Indiana community. At that point, it had at least two weeks since they touched each other in any way deemed pleasurable due to the company of other hunters. Desperate for something just a _bit more_ , Dean gripped them both in one hand, moving up and down, pressing them together in sync. They didn’t last very long. 

Now, there were no pants, no awkward positions, no keeping an eye out for headlights that may spot them. They were allowed to on all cylinders. 

Cas settled himself against Dean, pressing down for pressure as his mouth went for Dean’s neck. 

The contact was explosive, and Dean almost slapped himself for being on the edge already, like a goddamn teenager. Hot skin pushed against hot skin and Dean couldn’t feel the breeze that well with Cas against him. 

Dean also didn’t know where Cas learned to move his hips _like that_. Someone was beginning to shake, and as Cas moved from Dean’s neck over to his mouth, Dean began to realize it was actually both of them. 

Then a thought flashed across his mind. 

They didn’t put a cover on the couch. It was one thing staining an already disgusting motel mattress but it’d be hard convincing that the owner’s brand new blue sofa was stained by a ghost. The owner was a man, and men knew what those stains were. The guy also had their phone numbers.

Dean turned his head, ripping himself away from Cas’s mouth. 

“Don’t -- don’t ruin the sofa,” Dean choked out as he realized with horror how close he was. One or two more thrusts and he’d be done. It’s not like he had a quick refractory period anymore. 

Cas mercifully stopped, staring down at Dean, thoughtful as he processed the statement. 

“I guess I’ll just have to come inside you then.” 

Dean shot his hand down and hold himself tight. He squeezed his eyes, thinking about anything, _anything_ other than what Cas just said. The words came out so casually without hesitation.

It had been so long since Dean was in a position like this. Would he still be any good at it? He could count on one hands how many times he was actually fucked. Three guys and one girl who had a very impressive strap on. She was fun. 

Cas pulled fully off of Dean then and Dean felt the rushed of cold air over his slick and sweaty skin. It was almost painful but Dean welcomed the fresh air. He was edging away from the cliff. He’d hopefully last longer now --

Suddenly, Dean’s stomach sank with anguish. The bags were in the car. The bags that had a small bottle of lube _just in case_ were still in the fucking car. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas’s voice floated to him, worry clear and present in his tone. 

Dean slid his hands down just enough to expose his eyes, “The bags are still in the car.” 

Neither one of them wanted to go get them, Dean could already tell. They were in the thick of it. If they broke whatever had just started between them, who knew how long it’d be until the primal energy returned. 

Cas didn’t look phased, instead, a smile bloomed on his face.

“What?” Dean asked, bring his hands back down. What wasn’t he getting?

“There are other ways to come inside you,” Cas explained, dropping his eyes to stare at Dean’s mouth.

The fire returned to Dean immediately, sending the blood in his veins boiling. 

He only did _that_ once. 

It was so long ago, Dean couldn’t remember if he was any good at it. But, Cas’s boldness was dwarfing any nerves Dean had. 

Out of the two of them, Dean technically had the most experience. The first guy had a condom on and it took forever while Dean was kneeling on cold, wet pavement. There was nothing like that now. 

While Dean may not have given more than one blow job in his life, he received plenty and knows at least what dudes want to feel.

Without another word, Dean lifted himself off the pillow, and gently pushed Cas against the back of the sofa, nudging his legs off so his feet rest on the floor. 

Dean’s heart was pounding in his ears as he took in the sight before him. 

“Don’t spill anything - we can’t ruin the sofa remember?” Cas warned as Dean moved forward. 

Dean shot Cas a final glare before he moved into a more comfortable position, bending his legs and shifting at an angle. He couldn’t lay out on his stomach completely. He’d really ruin the sofa. 

Without a breath, Dean lowered his head, and took Cas in as far as he could, as slow as he could. He was delighted when he heard a sharp inhale from above, and Cas’s hands automatically went to Dean’s head, gripping at his hair just tight enough. 

This was not going to last long at _all_. Dean was sure all he had to do was just stay still with his mouth and throat relaxed and Cas could just get himself off. But, he wanted to put in the effort, emboldened by the fact he could take a lot more in than he thought he could. 

Taking his hand, Dean reached up and grabbed what he couldn’t fit in his mouth, moving in tandem with his mouth. He wasn’t going to go slow. He could go slow next time. They were both so desperate, it was a fool’s errand to try and stretch the tension out anymore. 

The noise was obscene, and mixed with the seagulls and crashing waves outside the window. 

Up, down, providing as much pressure as he could with his lips and making his tongue do a lot of the work. Up, swirl around the head, and back down, running his tongue along the underside of Cas’s cock. Dean repeated this a few times before sinking _down down down_ , humming low in the back of his throat. One hand gripped the back of his neck while the other one tightened itself in Dean’s hair. 

Cas held Dean down for a few extra moments before loosening his grip, allowing Dean to come back up. Dean took his time in the journey back up. The blood rushing in his ears and the noise coming from his mouth was blocking out any noises from Cas, but every now and then a strangled moan would float down to him. 

Dean moved back down again, slower this time, succeeding in getting every last inch in his mouth. He felt pressure against the back of his throat. A small bit of pride swelled inside him. 

This time, Dean moaned to cause the vibrations, and he heard the cry from above him. As Dean started to resurface, the hands gripped his neck and head again, holding him at the very top. Dean, obedient, stayed still. He knew where this was going, and he was ready. 

Cas propelled his hips up into Dean’s mouth, frenzied and urgent. Dean knew this was the last stretch. His jaw was starting to sore, and his back was crying out at the strange angle he was in. But, Dean was pleased with himself. Just judging by the uncontrolled movements of the hips below him, and the desperate noises coming from above, Dean knew he did a good job. 

Dean braced himself for what came next. This was the brand new part, but he was ready.

Forcing himself to stay relaxed, he felt Cas let go of him as the wave inside him was close to crashing. Dean sank back down, tongue cupping the underside and waited. 

Cas came in three distinct pumps, completely filling Dean’s mouth and throat. It was a lot more than Dean was expecting, and in order to not choke, he lifted himself up slightly, allowing for some come to be left behind. He’d get that later. 

With the memory of how good it felt when done to him, Dean didn’t pull off to swallow, instead keeping his mouth around Cas and worked the muscles in his throat. It wasn’t as difficult as he thought, and the pay off was amazing to hear above him. The high pitched ringing in his ears was subsiding, and all he heard was _shit shit shit_. The hips below him at first tried to get more in Dean’s mouth but then tried to back off. Dean swallowed a few more times to make sure everything in his mouth was gone, illicting more strangled cries from Cas. He pulled off completely and moved his head to the base to clean up what he couldn’t get the first time. 

Then, finally, Dean pulled away completely, straightening his back out with a wince of pain. His heart was still pounding as he sucked in as much fresh air as he could. 

Cas had his head tilted back against the sofa, eyes closed and panting slightly himself. His limbs were slack, and he looked completely blissed the fuck out. Dean’s jaw was more sore than he thought it’d be, and he knew his lips were swollen, but he felt amazing. 

Used, and amazing. 

It was then Dean realized that at some point, he came himself. His upper thighs were sticky with the aftermath of something he didn’t even feel. 

And some got onto the couch. 

Not a lot, but enough. 

Cas opened his eyes and turned his head to gaze at Dean then down to the sofa cushion. He didn’t say anything, only starting to laugh. 

Dean smiled, and moved back to the pillow in the corner of the sectional. He wanted to rest. 

They broke through whatever had kept them from doing more and it was everything Dean hoped for. 

The breeze subsided a bit, and wave after wave continued to beat the coastline. It smelled like spring and ocean. 

“We still have a week here,” Dean said, voice hoarse rough, almost painful, “What do you wanna do next?”

**Author's Note:**

> I had an Anon request the smut prompts 90 or 98. I chose 90, which was actually number 80 on the desktop numbered list. When I went to go look at it, I saw it was paired with another quote:
> 
> “Don’t ruin the sofa.”  
> “Ill just have to cum inside you then.”
> 
> So, there we go!


End file.
